


Gastric

by PaigePenn



Category: Original Work, gt - Fandom, vore - Fandom
Genre: GT, Gen, Soft Vore, Vore, Vore Day, but there's a little bit of actual vore at the end, mostly they're just talking about vore tho, safe vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:08:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25784158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaigePenn/pseuds/PaigePenn
Summary: It’s Vore Day! Despite being Cass’s pred for some time, Ernest knows none of the vocabulary. Cass recites a poem she wrote.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	Gastric

Ernest was woken by a tiny pair of hands shoving energetically at his cheek. This was, by this point, not an unusual way to wake up, and he knew better by now than to swat at the source of the odd sensation. Instead, he mumbled “Good morning, Cass,” without opening his eyes.

“Good morning, honeybun!” Cass chirped in reply. “Happy Vore Day!”

“Happy what?” Ernest asked sleepily.

“Vore Day!” Cass repeated, just as enthusiastically as the first time.

“What’s a vore?” Ernest opened one eye now, but since his face was turned to the right and he had opened the eye on that side, half of his vision was pillow, and above that, he could see Cass only up to the knee. He closed his eye again. “Is that those little mouse things that get in gardens?”

“What? No.” Cass sounded quite derailed, and was silent long enough that Ernest considered going back to sleep. Before he could do so, however, she apparently regathered her train of thought, because she draped herself against his face, leaned her tiny sharp elbows on the bridge of his nose, and demanded, “How do you not know what vore is?”

Ernest made a sleepy ‘I dunno’ sound. Nor, he thought to himself, could he really bring himself to care at this hour. He was really not a morning person.

Cass gave an offended gasp. “Ernest!”

“Wha?” Ernest protested, still not opening his eyes. Besides being too sleepy still to want to, he knew from experience that with Cass so close, she’d be blurry at best, and at worst, trying to focus on her would give him a headache.

Cass poked his eyelid. “I can’t believe you don’t know what vore is.”

“Mm,” Ernest said. He thought this conversation had been circling around that point long enough. “I’ll continue to not know if you don’t tell me,” he said, quite reasonably he thought.

“I shouldn’t have to,” Cass protested, and he could hear the pout in her voice. “We’ve done it enough times.”

‘Vore is a verb?’ Ernest thought, but he didn’t say it aloud. He had no interest in being dragged into a game of 20 Questions trying to figure out what Cass was talking about. “Well, that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t know what a vore is,” he answered instead. “The way I see it—” He paused to yawn. “The way I see it, either you tell me, and then I know, or you don’t and I just go back to sleep.”

Cass poked his eyelid again. “Vore,” she said sullenly, “is when you eat me.”

“Oh.” Ernest opened his eye a little bit to peek at her. “And today is vore day?”

“Yep!” Cass sounded nearly back to her usual cheerful self.

“Hm,” Ernest said, yawning again. “I guess we’ve been doing it wrong, then. I didn’t know you were only supposed to do it on certain days.”

Cass gasped and slapped his nose. “No!” she protested. “You’re not _supposed_ — Vore Day isn’t—”

Ernest allowed himself a small grin. “No?”

“No,” Cass said, frowning very sternly at him. “You can eat people any day of the year. Vore Day is a _celebration_.”

“Ah,” Ernest said. “How does one celebrate? Are we supposed to exchange gifts?”

It seemed this was the question Cass was waiting for. Her entire demeanor changed, and she grinned. “I have composed a poem,” she announced.

“Ooh.”

“ _An Ode_ ,” Cass said importantly, “ _To Ernest’s Stomach_.”

Ernest grinned. “I’m honored,” he said.

“Hush,” Cass scolded. 

He hushed.

Cass continued reciting. Ernest closed his eyes to listen.

> “ _There is a certain place;_
> 
> _I have a special spot:_
> 
> _my own secret space;_
> 
> _I like to go there a lot._
> 
> _Ernest holds the key,_
> 
> _Ernest guards the door._
> 
> _Ernest will admit me,_
> 
> _when the world I must ignore._
> 
> _The entry hall is damp,_
> 
> _and its ceiling is low._
> 
> _From there a steep ramp_
> 
> _down to the room below._
> 
> _My secret room is quite secure,_
> 
> _its squishy walls are very thick_
> 
> _I’m safer there I’m sure_
> 
> _than in one of mortar and brick._
> 
> _Churning walls, slimy floor,_
> 
> _never silent, never still,_
> 
> _this place I do adore_
> 
> _and know I always will._
> 
> _‘Tis a great spot for a snooze,_
> 
> _this place all my own,_
> 
> _I could stay always, I often muse,_
> 
> _and ne’er wish to roam._
> 
> _I have a secret place._
> 
> _It is my favorite spot._
> 
> _I love my secret space;_
> 
> _it’s the best one I’ve got_.”

“Very nice,” Ernest said after a moment had passed and he was sure she was done.

“I spent a long time on it,” Cass said, sounding pleased.

“I can tell.” Ernest opened his left eye to peek at her again. She looked a bit smug. “I don’t have anything prepared,” Ernest said apologetically. “Maybe next year, now I know it’s coming.” He pretended to be thinking hard. “I could eat you, if you like. Would that be a good celebration?”

“It would do,” Cass said in a very dignified tone.

Ernest smiled. Plucking her from his face, he sat up. “Ready?

Cass looked up at him and nodded. Ernest lifted her back to his face, opened his mouth, and slid her inside head first.

Dry swallowing always hurt, so Ernest took a few moments to slicken Cass up with saliva, and then he swallowed. Cass went down. He felt her land in his stomach, and pressed a hand against it for a moment to check on her, even though he knew she was fine. Cass shoved back at his hand, so he took it away.

That should keep Cass occupied for a while. Feeling quite satisfied, Ernest lay back down and pulled his blankets back up to his shoulders. With Cass tucked away, he should be able to get a few hours more sleep. Perhaps after he woke up again, he’d cook them a nice breakfast to commemorate the holiday. Ernest rested his hand contentedly on his full stomach.

“Happy Vore Day, Cass.”


End file.
